


It's Not Always Your Fault, Dean.

by larrydestielinson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Love, don't cry, don't hate me, im sorry, this killed me from the inside out, weecest-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrydestielinson/pseuds/larrydestielinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for sammyxinterrupted on tumblr! She had a 'Make me cry with my ships' thing up, and I tried!</p>
    </blockquote>





	It's Not Always Your Fault, Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for sammyxinterrupted on tumblr! She had a 'Make me cry with my ships' thing up, and I tried!

“Sammy. C’mon Sammy Wake up.” Six year old Dean is staring into his brother’s crib. It’s his job to wake up Sam. He does it everyday, and right now he’s doing just that. Only today is different. Usually by now the house is filled with Sam’s laughter, or tears. Some form of sound from the bubbling two year old. Dean looks into the crib, peering between the bars and looks at Sam. Sam’s so beautiful, like a little angel. The baby angels made of rocks, in the yard where grandpa is buried. Dean’s heart pounds. His voice catches in his throat. Is Sammy like grandpa? “Sammy. Sam come on, wake up!” Dean’s voice is loud now, almost screaming, “SAM, GET UP! Get up right now or I’m telling mommy!” Shaking the crib, Dean screams for his mother, waiting for her to come upstairs is the longest wait of his short life. Everything falls apart as soon as his mother steps foot into the room…

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Her voice is filled with the slightest hint of worry, hoping Dean’s okay. He’s not usually this loud. “Mommy, Sammy’s not moving. He won’t wake up. I can’t get him to wake up…” Dean’s voice is broken, missing pieces to make it whole. Mary rushes to the crib. She snatches Sam up, holding him tight, shaking him a little too roughly. “Sam, Sam wake up!” Her voice is panicked, wracked with sobs. Dean’s crying just as hard as Mary is. His mother’s voice is shrill as she screams for John to call an ambulance. Baby Sam’s life hangs in the balance. 

It feels as if Dean’s floating outside of his own small body, watching the ambulance men work on his baby brother. Sam is so small, and they’re pressing really hard on his chest. They’ve got to be hurting him. It takes all Dean has not to rush towards them, to tell them to stop, that they’re killing his brother. The only thing stopping him is his dad’s grip around his small chest, holding him against his hip bone. That bit of intimacy, the only thing keeping Dean from beating the men away from his brother. But it dosen’t matter; because inside, deep down he has the most terrible feeling. The feeling that these grown-ups are already too late to save his little brother. 

Dean’s hurt the most when he hears one of the men say “Call it.” His partner yells out a time, and they just sit there, one of them is crying and the other is standing up, walking to Dean’s parents. Mary Winchester screams, to the best of her ability and rushes forwards, falling to her knees, Sam’s name fresh on her lips. Dean watches as his parents crowd around his baby brother’s lifeless form and a silent single tear snakes its way down his cheek. He reaches up to wipe it away, remembering what his dad always told him. “Be strong, Dean. Don’t ever let them catch you in a weak moment.”

Just then something dawns on him: His father also told him to always take care of Sammy. But he didn’t do that. He let Sammy die. Now he was up there with Grandpa and Dean was down here, and he’d have to look at his mommy and daddy every day and see the disappointment on their faces. He had failed them, he had failed himself, but worst of all he had failed Sam. Dean watched his parents crying over his brother, and he lets go. Screaming at the top of his lungs, his brother’s name, cursing God for everything it’s worth, blaming himself. Dean’s small voice fills the entire space, bouncing off the walls. The EMTs stare at him, wondering if they should console him, or let him be. 

Dean’s screams echo through his chest, rattling his lungs making it hard to breathe. He let the feeling of immediate loneliness take over his body, bearing the little boy soul to the ground. His heart ached, ached for his brother. His best friend… Sammy was the only person Dean could tell things to; his innocent little secrets, spilling from his heart, every time his baby brother’s eyes met his. They shared a profound bond, as cliché as it sounds, Dean would've done everything and anything to keep Sam happy.  
But as it turns out, Dean will only ever know how it feels to lose everything his loves, one after the other; his baby brother, his mommy, his daddy, his Uncle Bobby until finally, Dean is the only one left. In a world of despair, loneliness and confusion Dean Winchester stands, with his back to the wind. The hurt too deep for him to comprehend. Dean just goes through life never realizing just how easy it could’ve been to save himself, by saving his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's so short! But hopefully the angsty-ness makes up for it?


End file.
